The Wind That Shakes the Barley (Live from Théâtre St-Denis, Montreal, QC. October 4th, 2005)

I sat within the valley green

I sat me with my true love.

My sad heart strove the two between

The old love and the new love.

The old for her the new

That made me think on Ireland dearly.

While soft the wind blew down the glade

And shook the golden barley.

T'was hard the woeful words to frame

To break the ties that bound us.

But harder still to bear the shame

Of foreign chains around us.

And so I said the mountain glen

I'll meet at morning early.

And I'll join the bold united men

While soft winds shook the barley.

T'was sad I kissed away her tears

My fond arm round her flinging.

When a foe, man's shot burst on our ears

From out the wild woods ringing.

A bullet pierced my true love's side

In live's young spring so early.

And on my breast in blood she died

While soft winds shook the barley.

But blood for blood without remorse

I've ta'en at oulart hollow.

I've lain my true love's clay like corpse

Where I full soon must follow.

Around her grave I've wandered drear

Noon, night, and morning early.

With breaking heart when e'er I hear

The wind that shakes the barley.